


Afternoon Delight

by awkward_ace



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, don't help I've been attacked by a wild elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkward_ace/pseuds/awkward_ace
Summary: It's no secret that the Commander is a workaholic and would probably work himself to death if people didn't occasionally stop him. Luckily the Inquisitor has his health in mind when she stops by. Because he needs a break, you see. And she knows how to make a convincing argument for one.Just...pure smut. That's all this is. Smut. Enjoy.





	Afternoon Delight

Oh, My-y-y-y

Cullen wasn’t getting any work done.

He had meant to, still meant to, had every intention of doing so. But it was a little hard to concentrate with his lover sitting in his lap and nibbling on his ear, making him shiver and squirm a little uncomfortably in his clothes as she murmured _things_ in his ear.

_Things_ that he frustratingly couldn’t understand because they were in Elvhen. _Things_ that he could only guess at, judging from the timber of her voice and the throaty growl that it was pitched to. He felt rather acquainted with that tone and what those _things_ might have been because it was the same tone he used when he whispered _things_ in _her_ ear.

“Pria,” he murmured, distractedly, “Pria, I need to get this-ah!-oh, _Maker_ …” He tilted his head back obligingly as her hand, tangled in his hair, pulled sharply and her mouth moved down to his neck, teeth biting roughly before suckling softly at his skin. The heated wave that ran through his body made his head spin, a moan slipping out as she bit down again, harder, sucked rougher.

“P-Pria,” he managed, breathing a little ragged, “The doors…”

They weren’t locked. He knew they weren’t locked. They should be, if this was going where he hoped it was.

“Let them come in,” she snarled against his skin, the hand not tangled in his hair brushing down his side to slip between them and cup him through his pants. His breath caught, and his back arched as she began to slowly palm him through the fabric, her tongue running lightly along the tendon in his throat.

His hands found their way to her thighs, squeezed tightly. “Pria,” he tried again, “I need to—”

She cut him off with a heated, possessive kiss, biting his lip punishingly and dragging it between her teeth. He groaned, loudly, wantonly, felt his resolve crumbling as he melted under her, sinking back into his chair. She pressed closer to him, till her breasts were flush against his armor and the hand on him squeezed.

“Shouldn’t have worn armor today, lover,” she murmured teasingly, smiling breathlessly at him as she broke the kiss. Because she knew it drove him crazy to feel the heated press of her body against his and that armor wasn’t exactly helpful in allowing that sensation, and it didn’t look like she would be allowing that to be remedied.

“Little _minx_ ,” he panted, tone a little accusing, his face flushed.

“Complaining? I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he growled and tangled his hands in the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her down into another kiss, his mouth hungry and fierce against hers. Pria moaned softly and arched against him, opening her mouth at the permission seeking sweep of his tongue, her hands sliding away from him to his waist and pulling open the laces of his pants, slipping one past as they came unfastened.

He moaned, raggedly, heatedly as her hand found him, lightly running along his hardened cock and wrapping around it to stroke softly. “ _Maker_ ,” he breathed, lips breaking from hers fractionally, gasped as she gave him a rough squeeze.

“Your Maker isn’t the one thinking about fucking you on your desk, Commander,” she purred darkly, eyes glinting almost dangerously and nipping roughly at his lip. “Say that again and I’ll stop.”

Cullen’s breathing came to an abrupt halt, stuttering as it left his lungs in a rush. “What?” he barely managed to whisper.

Her free hand tangled in his hair again and he shivered as she kissed the curve of his ear delicately, almost sweetly compared to the rough hold she had on him. “The _only_ name you should be saying right now,” she growled, “Is _mine._ ”

He whimpered faintly as her hand tightened through his hair, the pull on his scalp stinging, making the rush of pleasure more intense as she began to work him again, twisting her hand as she stroked him with a soft touch.

“ _Pria_ ,” he gasped, back arching, hands falling from her hair to fist into the back of her tunic.

“Much better,” she said, and began to attack his neck again, finding the sensitive places he always seemed to forget he had, teeth sinking in punishingly. He moaned and squirmed a little under her, his clothes and armor hot and confining but the pleasure spreading through him too great to even think of stopping it.

Heat coiled in him, tension tightening and rising in his stomach and back, every stroke of her hand and press of her lips ratcheting him closer towards his end. He groaned, heavily, tugging at her tunic, felt the urge to move under her, to buck into her hand but was unable to do so with her sitting in his lap, pinning him into his chair.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” she murmured heatedly in his ear, “You look good enough to _eat_.”

“Pria, _please—”_

She laughed, softly, huskily, the tone alone sending a thrill of pleasure through him and he moaned, quietly. She kissed his ear daintily and nuzzled his cheek. “Since you asked nicely, my beloved.”

He experienced a moment of hazy, confused loss as she pulled away from him, hands leaving him and his hair to set his on the chair arms as she slid to her feet, “These stay here, Cullen.” He could only manage a vague nod, watching her with heated, curious eyes as she knelt between his knees, fingertips skimming over his thighs and pulling open his pants further, pulling them down a bit.

His eyes widened, suddenly understanding her intentions, and his mouth opened to tell her that she didn’t have to, that what she had been doing was fine—and then groaned loudly, his back snapping into a sharp arch as her tongue ran over him teasingly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered hoarsely.

She chuckled, scratching her nails gently over the exposed skin of his lower belly to wrap that hand around the base of him, running her tongue over him again before taking his head into her mouth. His head fell back against the chair back, his breath rushing out in a ragged gasp.

He felt like he was on _fire_ , a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, making his clothes cling. The sensation of her mouth on him was a completely new one, something he had never quite figured out how to ask for, and it was _amazing_ now that he felt the raw heat that was building in him.

His hands tightened on the chair arms, the wood creaking faintly from the force of his grip as she took more of him into her mouth, tongue running along the underside, teeth scraping ever-so-faintly, her hand working the rest of him in time with her rhythm. “ _Pria_ ,” he breathed, worshipfully, crying out raggedly as she hummed softly, swept her tongue around his head and across his tip. It only took another moment, a shift of her to take more of him, to suck lightly, and he was undone.

An animalistic, rough groan escaped him as his climax found him, back arching with a violent shiver, a panting moan of her name as liquid heat bloomed through him, along his limbs. Her mouth kept him as he finished, tongue sliding along him slowly as she pulled back, sending another shudder of pleasure up his spine.

Pria straightened between his legs as he slumped back into the chair, panting, and he watched with wide, stunned eyes as she swallowed and ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. An almost feral smile was on her face. “Good enough to eat,” she murmured impishly.

Cullen let out a slightly strangled sound and pulled her up and into his lap, kissing her wildly as his hands wandered restlessly over her breasts and stomach to her waist and hips, tugged at the fastening of her leggings. One of her hands stopped him, fingers lacing through his as she flicked her tongue through his mouth, sketching it teasingly against his and the roof of his mouth before she pulled back, her teeth catching and tugging at his lip. His breath rushed out quickly, deeply.

“Just breathe, Cullen,” she whispered, pressing her lips softly against his forehead.

An airy, rough chuckle rumbled from his chest. “ _Just breathe_ , she says,” he mumbled, “I think you’ve broken me.”

She smiled roguishly ( _that damn smile_ ) and nuzzled his neck, her hands making quick, clever work of straightening his trousers and fastening them shut. “You needed a break.”

She kissed him, softer this time, hands cradling his neck and thumb brushing his jaw and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her as close as he could without crushing her against his armor. He sighed quietly and sank into her, warm, heavy contentment settling into his body, smiling softly as she pulled back and rubbed her nose against his.

“I love you,” he murmured adoringly.

“I love you too, ma vhenan,” she murmured back, resting her forehead against his.

They sat like that for several minutes, basking in one another’s presence, an easy quiet settling over them that lasted until they heard the clattering of hob-nailed boots and armor outside. Cullen flushed as he recalled that the doors were _unlocked_ and was glad that no one had decided to rush in just a short while earlier.

“Guard change,” she observed.

“It’s about that time,” he replied with resignation, “And that means they’ll be wanting the duty rosters confirmed.”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

Cullen grimaced for a moment before smiling, finding her hands to raise them up and kiss her knuckles gently, “I’d rather spend a little longer with you.”

“And revisiting other uses for your desk?”

He flushed at the wicked grin that snuck onto her face, unable to keep his own crooked smile hidden. “That…isn’t exactly what I meant but…”

Pria laughed and slid from his lap back to her feet, wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him tightly as he stood. “I’ll see you at dinner, won’t I?” she asked.

“And risk you letting Cassandra come ‘fetch’ me again? I’ll be there.”

“Good.” She kissed him softly one last time before lightly brushing her fingertips over his cheek as she stepped back, “Until later then, Commander.”

“Until later, Inquisitor,” he replied, sorry to see her leave but rather fond of the view of her backside as she sauntered out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ....So, it seems that Pria is not a jealous sort of person unless it involves sharing credit with a god. Which I guess is positive, because if you're going to waste energy with jealousy, might as well go for the top, right?
> 
> Anyway. This...this was supposed to be something different, but it just sort of came out as this so the thing I meant to write will get written...some other time. Eventually. Instead you get a surprised Cullen who responds favorably to a bit of manhandling (heheheheheheh!) and a somewhat more aggressive!Quizzie. Who takes Sera thoughts very seriously about him needing a woman on top, it seems.


End file.
